A life of invisible chains. They’d been there so long, Arabella had learned to live with them. She’d grown so used to them, she sometimes forgot they were there. The thought of breaking free was daunting. Like an animal kept in captivity all its life, she wasn’t sure how to live in the wild. Or if she even could.
But for the first time, she wanted to. And she’d finally decided that succeed or fail, this summer she was going to try.
So why did she feel so nervous to give Mr. McKenzie her answer?
Grandmother looked up from her embroidery. “Ye’ve been restless all day, dearie. Is it the rain?”
“Mmmhmm,” Arabella replied, her mind still far away.
“Good evening, ladies.” Mr. McKenzie appeared in the doorway, not bothering to wait for Cargill to announce him.
Arabella froze. Knees locked. Back straight.
He went to Grandmother first, sweeping her into a bear hug. “Miss me?” he asked.
She chuckled, batting him away. “I haven’t missed ye that much.”
“Ye wound me,” he teased, placing a hand over his heart. Then he turned and met Arabella’s gaze.
A charged energy crackled through the air as they stood facing one another.
He, impossibly handsome, dark hair damp, as if he’d walked through the rain.
Her heart, beating ridiculously fast.
His eyes met hers, gaze unrelenting. “Ye’ll have tae forgive me for being late. Someone stole my horse and hadn’t the decency tae return it.”
So hehadwalked. To make a point.
He wanted his horse.
And her answer.
And suddenly, Arabella knew exactly why she’d been nervous. Why she’d feared this moment.
On her own, Arabella was conventional. A rule follower. Save for her one indiscretion with Mr. Gresham, she was quite boring. About as exciting as a blank sheet of paper.
But Mr. McKenzie was like the spark coming off flint.
And when she was with him, her blank sheet of paper ignited, tinder catching fire. She felt it even now. A snarl of emotion swirling in her chest, a fidgety feeling in her fingertips.
Grandmother came and stood between them, waving them toward the dining room. “Ach, the time is nae matter. But let’s not keep Cargill waiting.”
Dinner was a very different affair than it had been the last time Mr. McKenzie had come. There was still tension between them, but a different kind. One of anticipation, of expectancy.
As if something new was beginning to unfurl between the two of them, and they each waited, on bated breath, to see what it might be.
Only a single wine glass was placed at her table setting. Arabella couldn’t help but smile a little as she looked at it. Had it only been three weeks since that fated evening—when she’d believed Scots drank four different types of liquor at dinner? The whole affair seemed a distant memory, as if instead of weeks, months had gone by, altering her perceptions of Scotland, her grandmother...
And Mr. McKenzie.
“How have ye been?” he asked, gaze intent. “Since your dip in the river?”
There were questions beneath his questions, but she wasn’t ready for them. “Warm and dry, as you can see.” Arabella cut a bite of potato. “But enough about me, Mr. McKenzie. I am curious to know how your...cousinlikes the bonnet you purchased for her?”
“Cousin?” Grandmother looked at Mr. McKenzie. “I did not ken ye had a cousin, Gavin.”
He cleared his throat, trying not to smile. “’Tis my second cousin...three times removed.”
